Beat Boxing and Make Believe: Reggie Watts at The ND [Review]
Saturday night, Watts bounded onstage, said hello and quickly slipped into a dead-on Texas drawl, meandering through a little of his biography (raised just north of Fort Worth, “Fort-what-it’s-Worth") before mentioning his work with The Oak Ridge Boys, with whom he’d recently toured (please don’t make me tell you this is all fiction). Watts’ skill as a comedian lies in his comfort with absurdity; when he mentioned that The Oak Ridge Boys had won an award for best lighting rig, defeating perennial champions Radiohead, it was his confidence that convinced the audience to commit to the absurdity of his story. From the premise he’d devised, Watts was able to segue into his music, quickly looping several vocal samples - a bass line, a relentless hi-hat, a few warbles - before launching into a perfect undressing of a Radiohead song, complete with jagged mid-seizure Thom Yorke dancing.
The set continued more or less along the same trajectory for the rest of the evening, with Watts slipping into and out of voices and characters. His songs range from country ballads to reggae jams and touched on subjects like "what distinguishes towns that have reputations for being cool from towns that are in fact cool" and "why fixed gear bikes are kind of cool but why being dogmatic about fixed gear bikes might be less cool." (That second subject might give you a bead on what the crowd at a Reggie Watts show is like.) What distinguishes Watts among the subset of alt-comics that appeal to the snug-denim set is his glowing positivity; at no point on Saturday night did Watts pause to tear anyone or anything down. His impressions never became mean-spirited, his music never seemed like anything less than good-natured homage. The crowd was especially sympathetic to his assessment of SXSW, which he explained first by miming being stuck in a small, crowded room and then described as precisely the sort of prohibitive wristband-stravaganza many locals have come to see it as.
The drawbacks of Watts' performances, however, are hard to overlook. After about an hour and only three or four songs, it became clear that there wasn't much more in his wheelhouse. While he's mastered some incredibly intimidating and difficult forms, they can only sustain an audience (and presumably Watts himself) for so long before even the most farfetched voices, songs and stories start to feel rote. A brief sight-gag revolving around a DJ headphone mix-up was clever, but too brief, and wandered eerily close to prop humor. While Saturday's performance featured sustained patches of brilliance, it's even more exciting to think about what Watts might bring to town on his next visit.
By Daniel Sargeant
